


Behind Closed Doors

by gypsygrrl420



Category: Bleach
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Bonding, Cuddling and Snuggling, Dirty Talk, Discipline, Dominance, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Humor, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Possessive Behavior, Power Swap, Punishment, Role Reversal, Romance, Schmoop, Secret Relationship, Secrets, Smut, Snark, Spanking, Submission, Topping from the Bottom, Voyeurism, WAFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-20
Updated: 2011-07-20
Packaged: 2017-10-21 14:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gypsygrrl420/pseuds/gypsygrrl420
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kensei's not the only member of the 9th to wear a mask, but behind closed doors Shuuhei reveals what lies beneath the facade of cool, collected fukutaicho. Kensei revels in being the only one who ever saw this side of his lover...until he realizes he should have covered the window. But even if their relationship is no longer a secret, he's still the only one privileged enough to touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind Closed Doors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cairnsy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cairnsy/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a short, smutty 100 word piece requested by cairnsy. As you can see, it’s not short, nor is it pure smut—damn plot kept getting in the way. So eventually I decided to stop fighting it and allowed Kensei and Shuuhei to do what they wanted. I hope you enjoy it, cairnsy! (And I’m dreadfully sorry that it took so long for me to finish!)

The ringing clash of steel against steel carried from the training grounds behind the 9th’s headquarters had Kensei slowing his purposeful stride back to his office, a faint frown appearing between his brows as he wondered who would be stupid enough to be sparring in the late afternoon heat. After four of his unseated officers had come down with heatstroke a few weeks ago, prompting a trip to the 4th and a long lecture by that division’s healers that Kensei refused to sit through again, he had moved all training sessions and drills to the relatively cooler hours of early morning—so who the hell had disobeyed his orders?

Snarling silently to himself and wondering where the hell his fukutaicho was at and why he hadn’t put a halt to this foolishness, Kensei stalked around the side of the building with every intention of ringing a peel over the combatants’ heads—only to stop dead when he saw the crowd gathered around the edges of the field, their attention riveted on the two figures battling back and forth across the dusty grounds. The crimson-haired fukutaicho of the 6th division was laughing as he sent the released form of his weapon whipping towards Kensei’s own Vice Captain—a blow that Hisagi easily evaded with a graceful leap and twist in mid-air that would have been impossible for anyone else to execute, his own zanpakuto already spinning towards the other lieutenant before he even touched the ground. The whirling scythes that had pained his fukutaicho so much in the past sliced through the air centimeters from Abarai’s head, earning a wolfish grin from the taller man as he dodged to one side—followed by a vicious curse as the second set of blades swept towards him from the opposite side, forcing him to throw himself backwards to avoid the deadly weapon. Though he knew he should call a halt to the unauthorized sparring session—he really was in no mood to deal with Kuchiki or Unohana-taicho once they found out about this, and find out they would—he didn’t have the heart to interrupt. Though he no longer spouted ridiculous platitudes about fearing one’s zanpakuto—he’d finally cured him of _that_ ridiculous notion—his fukutaicho still didn’t like releasing his sword in public, preferring to train alone in the underground caverns at the edges of Rukongai, far away from watching eyes and wagging tongues. Abarai had to have begun this, and though the fukutaicho of the 6 th was one of Kensei’s least favorite people—the man was loud, brash, and more than a little obnoxious—he could admit to feeling a grudging sense of admiration towards the red-head for his ability to draw Hisagi out of his shell, something the silver-haired Vizard had been attempting to do for months now. Watching his fukutaicho battle with the red-head, Kensei found himself comparing the differences in their styles—Hisagi’s spare elegance and speed, Abarai’s strength and dexterity with his whip-like weapon—and suddenly became aware of the murmuring voices of two new recruits directly in front of him:

“It’s spooky how his expression never changes. D’ya think he looks like that in bed too?”

Kensei’s eyes narrowed on the speaker, a scowl appearing when the man’s companion giggled and shuddered dramatically.

“Who would want Old Stone Face in their bed? The man’s colder than Kuchiki-taicho, only not nearly as pretty. Miko-san tried inviting him out for drinks last week and he turned her down flat, not even blinking an eye,” she said.

“Why would she even ask him?”

She giggled again, the sound grating on Kensei’s nerves. “He may not be pretty, but he’s still a fukutaicho. I suppose a girl can endure a lot worse if it means getting close to that kind of power, though personally I like my men gorgeous and hot-blooded—like Abarai-fukutaicho.”

Kensei cleared his throat and the two turned—blanching when they saw their taicho standing behind them. He offered them both a feral smile.

“Don’t you have duties to attend to? If not I’m sure I can find something for you both to do.”

“Y-yes, Taicho! Sorry—we’ll go right now!” the young man stammered, bowing to his captain. The girl beside him bowed as well, stammering out an apology before they both turned tail and fled. He strode through the crowd, making his presence known, and a few well-aimed glares sent the onlookers scurrying back to their duties, leaving him alone on the training ground with Abarai and his own fukutaicho. Hisagi immediately dropped to one knee, bowing his head to his captain; the crimson-haired lieutenant resealed his zanpakuto and stuck the tip in the ground, leaning his weight against the hilt as he tried to catch his breath, grinning unrepentantly at the Vizard.

“Is the captains’ meeting over already, Muguruma-taicho?” he asked, earning himself a long, measured look from hard amber eyes.

“I’m sure you don’t want your captain to come looking for you, Abarai,” Kensei replied, and the younger man shrugged.

“Eh, Taicho won’t mind,” he said cheekily, but straightened fast when the older man’s eyes narrowed. “Right, I’m off then—see you later, sempai.”

Kensei watched the red-head shumpo away before turning his attention back to his own Vice Captain, studying the still-kneeling figure for the signs Unohana-taicho had listed as symptoms of heat-stroke; the kid’s face was flushed and sweaty, but that was normal after a good spar, and he seemed otherwise healthy. He could order him over to the 4th to get checked out, but that would mean the somewhat scary captain of that division would be showing up on his doorstep later to lecture him, and he certainly didn’t want that. Besides, Hisagi was smart enough to know his limitations, and if he started feeling poorly he would go seek treatment on his own, without his captain’s interference. Still, it was blasted hot out, and the kid had disobeyed a direct order…

“Go get cleaned up, Hisagi, then go home. We’ll discuss this later,” he said, and the younger man rose to his feet, offering his captain a deep bow.

“As you wish, Taicho,” he murmured, avoiding Kensei’s eyes as he sealed and resheathed his zanpakuto, and the Vizard bit back a faint smile when he saw that the flush edging his lieutenant’s sharp cheekbones had deepened fractionally. With another low bow Hisagi took his leave, long-legged stride carrying him across the dusty training grounds at an unhurried pace; Kensei watched his retreating figure for a long moment before heading back to the relatively cooler confines of his office and the piles of paperwork that would need his attention before morning. With any luck the reports would only take an hour or so to finish and he could call it a day as well.

 

Night had already settled over Soul Society by the time Kensei reached the 25th district of Rukongai, and the silver-haired Vizard was in a filthy mood as he made his way down the crowded streets, barely noticing when people gave him a wide berth, eying him warily as he passed.

Someone had screwed up an entire batch of requisition forms—which had taken him four hours to straighten out—and then he’d been called down to the 4th division to deal with a group of new recruits who had decided to pick a fight with members of the 11th, which had generated yet another pile of paperwork. By the time he had finished it had been well after nine o’clock, and though he was both hungry and tired and his quarters only a few minutes’ walk from his office, the sterile rooms held little appeal to him tonight.

Arriving at his destination, Kensei climbed the rickety stairs leading up to the second floor and made his way carefully down the narrow veranda that wrapped around the outside of the building, stopping in front of a plain wooden door at the far end and digging for his key. The lock opened with a soft ‘click’ and he stepped inside, only to frown when he realized that the front room was dark. He hadn’t mentioned that he’d had plans tonight…

His frown disappeared, however, when he heard a soft noise coming from the direction of the bedroom that lay just on the other side of the room, and Kensei quickly toed off both waraji and tabi before padding silently across the cool floor to investigate, figuring that his lover had grown tired of waiting and had retired for the night despite the earliness of the hour.

Smiling faintly, he eased the door open as silently as possible so he wouldn’t wake the other man—and promptly forgot how to breathe as his gaze landed upon the sultry creature sprawled across the middle of the bed, very much awake and very, very busy.

A half dozen fat candles cast fitful, flickering golden light across the lithe figure, light and shadow playing over bared skin and catching in the folds of midnight blue fabric spilling open along either side of that sleekly muscled body, revealing and framing pale, sun-kissed flesh in such a way that Kensei found himself unable to move, transfixed by the erotic sight before him and wishing he could capture this moment and burn it into his memory for all eternity.

His trance was broken a heartbeat latter by a faint jingling noise, drawing his attention down to the long-fingered hands moving between parted thighs, amber eyes widening as his gaze came to rest on the black cuffs fastened around each wrist, joined together by a short length of silver chain that glittered in dim light. The chain jingled again as the dark-haired man stroked himself lazily with one hand, the fingers of the other tracing teasing circles on the silken skin just behind his scrotum, and Kensei swallowed hard, his previous exhaustion vanishing in the wake of an all-consuming _need_ to possess…

 “Fuck—”

His fukutaicho’s dark head turned towards him on the pillow, a faint smile tilting one corner of his mouth upwards when he spotted Kensei standing in the doorway.

“I thought you might have decided to stay in the division tonight,” he murmured, and the sound of that low, rasping voice was like a tangible caress against the captain’s skin, luring him away from the door and into the room.

Kensei shed his haori, tossing it carelessly towards the room’s single chair—not caring when it missed and fell to the floor—and made quick work of the sash holding his shihakushou closed. Sinking down on the edge of the bed, Kensei dragged the smaller man sideways across his lap and fisted a gloved hand in the rich black silk of his lover’s unbound hair, yanking his head back and holding him still as he took that lush mouth in a fierce, hungry kiss—one that his fukutaicho returned eagerly, bound hands lifting to clutch at the loose folds of the older man’s uniform as he submitted utterly to his silver-haired lover. They were both panting when Kensei lifted his head, but the Vizard recovered quickly, offering his lieutenant a predatory smile as he hooked one finger around the chain between Shuuhei’s wrists, drawing his hands away from his uniform; the brat knew damn well he was coming tonight—he’d bound himself with the expectation of punishment, saving Kensei the trouble of doing it himself.

“Che—you know better than that. These,” he tugs the chain firmly before curling a possessive hand around one manacled wrist, “tell me you were expecting me.”

Shuuhei’s lips twitched in a faint smile, long eyelashes lowering to veil gleaming eyes. “I’m a fast learner—so what’s my punishment, Taicho?”

Kensei grinned—cheeky brat. “I know just the thing, fukutaicho-mine.”

The Vizard flipped his lover face down across his thighs, holding him there with one hand at the small of his back while lifting the other hand to his mouth, using his teeth to peel the buttery soft leather glove off and tossing it to the floor. Shuuhei swore softly, twisting to get away, but Kensei merely pressed down more firmly, switching hands and pulling off his other glove before sweeping aside the material covering that perfect little ass, baring it to his hungry gaze. The kid had a bottom that just begged for what he was going to do next.

“Kensei—”

Ignoring the low, warning growl that didn’t quite hide the other man’s rising excitement—he could feel Shuuhei’s cock pressed against his thigh, begging for attention—he flattened his hand more firmly against his lover’s back and raised his free hand, bringing it down swiftly.

Crack!

“Fuck! Kensei—”

Crack!

“Dammit! That fucking _hurts!_ ”

“That’s the point, brat.”

Crack!

Red handprints bloomed against pale skin, one after another as Kensei rained blows down on that upturned ass, holding the struggling form down easily with one hand, utilizing his superior strength and leverage to keep the younger man in place despite his wriggling. Shuuhei swore at him, the litany of curses pouring from his throat more than a match for anything heard in the highest districts of Rukongai—when properly motivated, his normally calm and collected fukutaicho could out-swear even the most hardened members of the 11th division—but Kensei didn’t let up, not until the swearing changed to sobs and his lover was lifting himself into each and every blow, wordlessly begging for more despite the fact that his entire ass was glowing cherry red and hot to the touch, his leaking cock steel hard against the Vizard’s thigh.

Kensei stroked his stinging palm gently across bruised flesh, waiting for Shuuhei to calm, all the while marveling anew at the priceless treasure he had found in the younger man, both as lover and fukutaicho—a treasure he had almost allowed to slip through his fingers during those first few turbulent months after the war and his reinstatement as the 9th division’s captain.

When Yamamoto-soutaicho had first introduced him to his new lieutenant, he’d immediately made the connection between the tall, leanly built young man standing before him and the crying brat he’d rescued from a Hollow a hundred years before, the day his entire world had been shattered by the machinations of a madman and his own 5th seat. He hadn’t forgotten a single detail of that day—and apparently, the kid hadn’t forgotten him either. His gaze had locked on the numbers etched prominently across one sharp cheekbone, a perfect match to ones emblazoned across the Vizard’s own stomach, and the very sight of those heavy black lines had only served to remind him of things best left in the past, stirring memories of dead companions and long, lonely years of exile. As a result, his first words to his fukutaicho had been harsher than necessary, telling the kid that he wasn’t a damn hero—followed by an  order to ‘cover that damn tattoo and keep it covered’. Dark eyes had widened fractionally before going carefully blank, that sharp-featured face had gone expressionless, and the kid had bowed stiffly with a murmured assent delivered in a voice utterly devoid of inflection before he turned away. He’d handled those first few moments very badly, and their initial working relationship had suffered for it.

He discovered almost immediately that his new lieutenant was more than competent at his job; he trained with the new recruits daily, did his paperwork thoroughly and neatly, ran the _Seireitei Communication_ without complaint even though it added to his already formidable workload. He’d had no complaints about Hisagi’s work performance—but the distance between captain and vice captain yawned between them like an insurmountable gulf, and Kensei knew he was the cause of that divide. The silver-haired man knew he’d been overly harsh with the kid, and had tried making amends—only to be rebuffed at every turn by a wall of icy reserve that his lieutenant wore like a shield. So he’d changed tactics, figuring the most effective way to get Hisagi to lower those blasted shields of his would be to make the kid lose his temper.

He’d misplaced important paperwork and made Hisagi do it over, sent him running all over Soul Society on pointless errands, he kept him late into the night. He waited and watched for the cracks to appear, biding his time—he hadn’t expected the kid to hold out for so long but he could be patient when he needed to be—until finally, four months later, his fukutaicho had snapped. If they’d been in Seireitei at the time, the ensuing battle would have taken out half a division and drawn every soul within a half-mile radius; thankfully, however, they had been alone, patrolling for Hollows in the forests surrounding Soul Society.

There had been no one to witness an enraged Shuuhei launch himself at his captain or the resulting knock-down, drag-out fight that ended with his fukutaicho flat on his back in the dirt, moaning fit to rival the most skilled of Rukon whores as Kensei did his best to fuck him into the ground, pounding rough and deep and fast into his lieutenant’s willing body as the other man’s cries of pleasure echoed all around them. No one to hear the dark-haired young man swearing at him for _more, faster, harder_ until his spine bowed and his eyes went wild and blind as his orgasm crashed over him. No one to see Kensei cradling his exhausted, drained fukutaicho in his arms as the dam inside him finally broke, letting out months of repressed pain and frustration in a storm of tears that shook his slender frame while Kensei merely held him, burying his face in the soft tangles of his lieutenant’s black hair and waiting for him to cry himself out. They’d both emerged from the forest that day carrying something new inside them, something indefinable that blossomed and grew as the days and weeks and months passed.

He was yanked back to the present when his lover wriggled in his lap, and he realized he still held the younger man pinned face down across his thighs. Mindful of his freshly spanked bottom, he helped Shuuhei turn over, slipping one arm around him as his lover snuggled close and pressed his tear-streaked face against Kensei’s throat. Despite his near-painful state of arousal, the Vizard was perfectly content holding him this way, drinking in the peace of the moment—at least until he felt the ghosting caress of soft lips against his skin. He shivered at the teasing glide of his lover’s tongue, felt Shuuhei’s mouth quirk upwards in a smile against his neck, and all thoughts of cuddling vanished from his mind as his blood heated anew.

Growling low in his throat, he twisted to pin the young man beneath him, burying a hand in silky raven-black hair and yanking his lover’s head back to bare the long column of his throat to his lips and teeth and tongue; his fukutaicho’s laughter died on a throaty moan, long legs wrapping around Kensei’s hips and urging him closer, whimpering softly with need as the older man’s mouth moved over his sensitive neck.

“Greedy brat.”

His lover winced when he nipped at the tender area just beneath his jaw, but the Vizard soothed the tiny hurt with a slow stroke of his tongue, tasting the salt of tears and a flavor that was uniquely Shuuhei—spice with just a hint of sweetness, indefinable and utterly addictive—feeling the legs around him tighten as that long, lean body arched up against him, wordlessly begging for more even as the brunet laughed breathlessly.

“Are you complaining, Taicho?”

The teasing note in his lover’s voice earned a low growl, and Kensei tilted his head back further, setting his teeth into the vulnerable arch of throat bared to his hungry gaze, tearing a startled cry from the younger man; he lifted his head with a grin, drinking in the gorgeous sight of his lover flushed and panting with arousal beneath him.

“Fuck no, I’m not complaining.”

Shuuhei’s mouth quirked upwards in a tiny smile, one bare foot stroking down along Kensei’s calf as his bound hands slid up the Vizard’s chest, long fingers curling in the front of the older man’s uniform.

“Good—I wouldn’t want you to think I’m too demanding,” he murmured demurely, even as his foot hooked behind Kensei’s ankle, a wicked gleam appearing in his eyes an instant before he shifted his weight…and Kensei suddenly found himself flat on his back with Shuuhei sitting on top of him, the younger man’s eyes lit with silent laughter and a trace of smugness at having caught the Vizard off guard so easily.

An answering smile tugged at one corner of Kensei’s mouth even as his hands slipped beneath the thin material draped across his lover’s thighs, dark fabric bunching around his wrists as he stroked up sleekly muscled flesh to grip slim hips, smile widening to a feral grin when he felt the minute tremor run through the slender frame in his lap.  He could have his lover flat on his back and moaning in seconds if he wanted, but Shuuhei obviously had something else in mind tonight, something that Kensei was more than willing to give him. All he needed to do was give his lover the right incentive to take what he wanted.

“I can handle anything you got, brat. Question is: can you handle _me_?” he asked lightly, but his feral smile belied the easy tone, widening when green eyes narrowed at the issued challenge. Yeah, he knew just what buttons to push…

  Shuuhei didn’t answer, instead rising to his knees above Kensei, an otherworldly creature in the fitful, guttering light of dying candles and dancing shadows, one that belonged only to this room and the Vizard laying beneath him. Fukutaicho and lover, subordinate and mate—the piece of himself that Kensei hadn’t even known was missing, separate from the Hollow and zanpakuto that lived inside him, but no less a part of him, no less vital.

“Grip the headboard, Kensei,” his lover ordered softly, gazing down at him with dark, dark eyes that seemed to swallow the light, and the silver-haired man’s hands tightened around slim hips before he reluctantly released his hold, lifting his arms above his head and grasping the iron bars above him obediently. He had no problem allowing Shuuhei to take control—he’d deliberately challenged his lover in hopes that the younger man would do so—but not being able to touch him was almost painful. Shuuhei smiled faintly, head tilting to one side as he studied the bigger man stretched out beneath him, and Kensei found himself tensing at the wicked gleam that flashed through his eyes—he _knew_ that look meant trouble—just before his lover uttered the words to a high-level binding kido that looped around his wrists and bound his hands firmly in place. 

“Shuuhei—”

His fukutaicho smiled slowly at his frustrated growl—fucking kid was better at the demon arts than he was, and it would take him time to break free—and scooted backwards, kneeling between Kensei’s feet.

“Shh…relax,” he murmured, leaning forward to untie the Vizard’s hakama and draw the heavy material down his legs. One dark brow lifted when Kensei’s cock sprang free of the folds, unencumbered by underwear of any sort, but he didn’t comment, pulling the uniform pants off completely and dropping them over the side of the bed before settling back in his original position at the Vizard’s feet, studying the older man in silence for long moments while Kensei tried not to squirm beneath the weight of his lover’s gaze, wondering at his sudden discomfort. He’d done the same thing to Shuuhei many times—tied him, stripped him, drank his fill of his lover’s helpless form—but this was the first time he’d found himself on the receiving end, and he wasn’t quite sure he liked it. It was fucking embarrassing, being on display like this…

He was about to tell Shuuhei to release him—he had no problem allowing Shuuhei to control their lovemaking, he just didn’t want to be bound—until he realized that his lover was looking at him like he was a tasty treat he couldn’t wait to devour, eyes hot and hungry and filled with so much _need_ that Kensei found his discomfort suddenly melting away. No one had ever looked at him like that before, like _he_ was a prize that was about to be savored to the fullest—hells, he was usually the one doing the looking and savoring; that it was _Shuuhei_ looking at him like that…he felt his own arousal burn higher and hotter, his body aflame with the need to feel those hands and that mouth on him, to be buried as deeply as possible in that slim, sleek body as Shuuhei drove them both over the edge.

Relaxing into the bed beneath him, he met the dark-haired man’s steady gaze and smiled, eyes gleaming with renewed challenge.

  

  1. “Do your worst, brat.”                                                                                              
  



Shuuhei’s lips quirked upwards, amusement joining the heat in his dark gaze, but Kensei didn’t mind the silent laughter in the least. Soon enough those eyes would be blown with lust, pupils widely dilated and swallowing all but the thinnest ring of iris as his lover filled the dimly-lit room with the sounds of his pleasure, offering up the sweetest of moans as he took Kensei all the way to the hilt, riding him slowly as the sound of his husky, throaty cries threatened to snap the last shreds of the Vizard's control…

He didn’t know whether he wanted to groan or curse as his body reacted to the vivid image, his need for the other man dancing on the edge of near-pain in its intensity; if Shuuhei didn’t touch him soon, he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t simply tear free of his bindings and end this game between them before it even began—which would be a damn shame, since he had been the one who had pushed his lover into taking control in the first place.

He was about to demand that Shuuhei stop fucking teasing him with those hot eyes and faint smile and _fucking touch him already_ when the other man finally moved. Dropping down to all fours, his lover left the foot of the bed and crawled over him, prowling up the length of the Vizard’s body with the fluid, savage grace of a predator stalking its prey—a sleek, hungry leopard instead of the purring kitten he’d grown accustomed to—dark, dangerous, and all _his._

Rising up above him, Shuuhei settled himself astride Kensei’s waist, his long legs spread wide for balance as he began unbuckling one of the soft cuffs circling his wrists—only to pause a heartbeat later, eyeing his captain through the tumbled curtain of hair falling across his face. Kensei held that gaze, wondering what his lover was up to, and nearly groaned aloud when Shuuhei smiled slowly, holding out his arms.

“Take them off, Kensei,” he murmured huskily, his voice pure sex—laced with the faintest of commands.

The Vizard blinked, then offered the other man a sardonic smile, tugging at his bindings.

“My hands are kinda outta commission here, brat.”

Shuuhei’s smile widened fractionally, and he leaned forward, mouth whispering delicately against Kensei’s in a butterfly soft kiss before nipping sharply at the older man’s lower lip, chuckling softly when the Vizard cursed at the sudden pain.

“Use your teeth, Kensei,” he purred, sitting up once more.

The silver-haired captain glowered at his lover, but when Shuuhei held his wrists out to him again he obediently seized hold of the butter-soft leather with his teeth, tugging the tongue loose from the buckle. The brat was so going to pay for this later…

It took some work, and a lot of internal swearing on Kensei’s part— _next time he was in the Real World he was picking up a pair of cuffs that fastened with snaps or Velcro_ —but finally he managed to unfasten the first cuff, holding Shuuhei’s gaze as he let his lips and teeth just barely graze his lover’s palm. The younger man’s eyes darkened, and the Vizard hid a smile when he felt the fine tremor go through the lean form perched atop him, heard the soft hitch in his breathing even as the color burning along sharp cheekbones deepened with heightening arousal, visible even in the dying candlelight.  He was fucking beautiful like this, and if Kensei’s hands weren’t bound, he’d…

 _Focus, idiot, don’t ruin this_.

Reining in his natural instinct to possess and dominate—to take control—the silver-haired man turned his head and caught the edge of the remaining cuff with his teeth, pulling Shuuhei’s hand closer so he could work the wide band of leather free more easily, concentrating solely on his task in order to allow Shuuhei time to regain his composure.

Now that Kensei had banked his impatience, the second cuff came undone more quickly than the first; a firm tug pulled supple leather loose from the buckle, another freed the prong from the well-worn hole, and a moment later his lover’s other wrist was freed. Kensei gazed up at Shuuhei through veiled eyes as the dark-haired man took restraints from his teeth, leaning over to place them on the small table beside the bed and picking up a small bottle before straightening. One of the candles guttered out, extinguished in a pool of its own wax, and the shadows in the room deepened.

A casual shrug sent his yukata sliding from slim shoulders, the lightweight material slipping slowly down his arms and pooling across the Vizard’s lap; Shuuhei rose up on his knees, pale golden skin gleaming with a fine layer of sweat from the warm night air, the play of light and shadow nearly hypnotic as he reached behind him to push away the discarded sleeping robe, gazing down at Kensei with dark, dark eyes.  The bound man felt his mouth go dry beneath the intensity of that stare, caught in the depths of his fukutaicho’s gaze—he almost missed the soft click of the bottle cap snapping open, but Shuuhei’s lips twitched in the faintest of smiles, and he dragged his attention down to his lover’s long-fingered hands, watching as he poured a generous amount of lube in one palm before clicking the bottle shut and tossing it to the bed.

 _Fuck…_

He groaned as Shuuhei rubbed his palms together and reached behind him, curling the fingers of one hand around Kensei’s aching cock, stroking him slowly, teasingly, readying him for what would come next. Though he’d given up control to his lover, the Vizard couldn’t prevent himself from thrusting his length through those clever fingers, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as white hot pleasure shot up his spine. Shuuhei stroked him a few more times before releasing him, much to his disappointment, but a soft catch of his lover’s breath drew his gaze upwards to see even white teeth sinking into a full bottom lip, long black eyelashes sweeping down to conceal his eyes as he slipped his lubed fingers deep inside his body, readying himself for Kensei’s cock.

 The Vizard almost lost it right then and there.

“Shuuhei—”

His voice came out guttural, hoarse, almost pleading—he wanted to bury himself inside that slim body so badly it hurt.  Shuuhei’s head tipped back on a long, low moan as his busy fingers found his sweet spot, and Kensei yanked at his bindings futilely, swearing aloud when they held fast—he wasn’t getting loose until his lover released him.

Growling his frustration—the brat was definitely going to pay for this torment later—he could only watch as Shuuhei prepped himself, stretching himself thoroughly while his lean frame shuddered in pleasure above the bound captain laying beneath him. Intellectually, Kensei knew this was necessary—he wasn’t exactly small, and though his fukutaicho was far from delicate, he was still virginally tight—but intellect was rapidly losing ground to the primal instinct demanding that he claim his mate. He couldn’t even blame his Hollow, though it too was growling its need in his head; when it came to Shuuhei, all his careful control went flying out the window.

 _Need. Want. Mate. MINE._

Kensei felt his darker half struggling to emerge, clawing its way to the surface and forcibly shoved it back. Not yet, not till Shuuhei asked…and he knew one day Shuuhei _would_ ask, would _demand_ it of him. He knew his brat, knew his lover wanted all of him—but they weren’t quite there yet. The damned Hollow would have to be patient a little longer; Kensei wasn’t about to let it touch Shuuhei until his lover was ready for it, until they were _both_ ready for it, and they hadn’t reached that point yet. 

He jerked when he felt slick fingers close around his length once more, focusing back on his lover to see Shuuhei gazing down at him with what could almost be called a pout—except Shuuhei didn’t pout.

“Am I boring you, taicho?” he asked with mock sweetness—fuck that _was_ a pout—but his eyes were gleaming from beneath those long eyelashes, and he stroked his hand down to the base of Kensei’s erection, the slow movement tearing a heartfelt groan from the bigger man’s throat.

“You know damned well you’re not. Stop fucking teasing me, brat,” he growled, and his lover’s mouth twitched upwards at one corner. One of these days he’d get the kid to actually smile…

His brain stuttered when Shuuhei shifted backwards, the hot, bruised flesh of his bottom pressing teasingly against Kensei’s length. The Vizard groaned as his cock slid between those pert cheeks, glowering up at his lover menacingly even as he rocked his hips against that beautiful ass hoping for more friction. He was damned if he was going to spill before he was buried inside his brat—but if Shuuhei didn’t hurry the fuck up he knew he was going to embarrass himself and do just that.

His lover’s smile widened fractionally, but he took pity on the Vizard, rising up as he positioned Kensei at his entrance. Free hand resting on the bound man’s stomach for balance, Shuuhei lowered himself slowly, biting his lip as his body resisted the intrusion for a moment before the tight ring of muscle finally yielded, gasping softly as the head of his lover’s cock pressed inside.

Kensei groaned as he felt himself engulfed in that clenching heat and gripped the headboard to anchor himself, knuckles whitening as Shuuhei sank down on him with maddening slowness, battling against the instinctual urge to thrust up into his lover’s slim body and lay claim to his mate. He could feel Shuuhei trembling as he lowered himself, inch by inch, swallowing Kensei in slow increments while the Vizard held himself absolutely still, hanging onto his last remaining shred of self-control. His lover was beautiful in the flickering light: eyes closed, cheeks flushed, lips parted as he panted softly, dark hair clinging damply to his neck and sharply-defined jaw. A tiny furrow had appeared between straight black brows, indicating the young man’s intense concentration and the slight discomfort of taking Kensei inside him—a sight that helped the bigger man leash his baser instincts and allow his mate to set his own pace.

It seemed like an eternity passed before Shuuhei settled in the Vizard’s lap, Kensei’s entire length enclosed in snug, velvety heat, and he watched as green eyes fluttered open on a breathy moan, pupils hugely dilated and unfocused—a sure sign that his lover was already close to the edge. Even in the low light he could see Shuuhei’s pulse fluttering wildly at the base of his throat, the subtle play of muscles shifting beneath damp, gleaming skin as the younger man brought his other hand down to Kensei’s stomach, fingers splayed wide as he rolled his hips slowly, experimentally.

The Vizard’s hands tightened around the bars above his head, hard enough that the metal groaned, echoing the hoarse sound that tore from his throat as he felt Shuuhei tighten around him. At this rate, he wasn’t going to last long either.

His lover rocked on him slowly—the slow, sinuous roll of his hips more than a match for any whore to be found in all of Soul Society—moans spilling freely from his throat to fill the air, driving Kensei closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. He’d expected his lover to take him fast and rough, but he should have learned by now that Shuuhei defied expectations, surpassing anything the Vizard could ever imagine.

“Touch me, Kensei. I want your hands on me,” the younger man ordered breathlessly, and the binding spell around Kensei’s wrists vanished. He’d wanted to give Shuuhei control tonight—wanted to give them both this—and just like that, his lover handed it back to him. His brat never failed to bring him to his knees.

Surging up off the bed, one arm circled slim hips, his free hand fisting in raw midnight silk to yank Shuuhei’s head back, taking his mouth deeply, groaning at his intoxicating taste and drowning in the soft cries spilling from swollen lips. He could feel Shuuhei’s cock pressing against him, trapped between their bodies and leaking, and knew he wouldn’t even have to touch the other man to send him flying over the edge. Fingers biting harshly into his lover’s hip, he tilted him fractionally, adjusting the angle of his thrusts so his length raked deliberately across the small nub inside the other man’s body—once, twice, a third time…

And Shuuhei’s mouth tore free of his on a wild cry as his orgasm crashed over him, spine bowing at a graceful, near-impossible angle in the Vizard’s arms.

Kensei growled as his lover’s internal muscles clamped down on him, thrusting once last time into Shuuhei’s clinging heat before his own climax struck. Head falling back on a hoarse shout, he held onto the younger man as he spilled deep inside him, vision whiting out for long moments with the force of his orgasm. His entire world narrowed down to the lightning racing through his veins, sizzling through his blood, filling the sleek body above him.

When he could see again, breathe again, he was laying flat on his back with Shuuhei cradled against his chest, the younger man panting softly against his throat.

“Fuck, that was—”

His fukutaicho laughed softly, lifting his head so Kensei could see the gleam of laughter dancing in his eyes.

“Yes, it was.”

The Vizard stroked his hand up Shuuhei’s sweaty back, burying his fingers into damp hair to nudge his face upwards, sealing their mouths together, kissing him unhurriedly. Shuuhei moaned softly, and Kensei grinned as he pulled away, his own eyes gleaming with laughter as he drank in his lover’s dazed expression.

“Greedy taicho,” the dark-haired man murmured, and his captain laughed quietly.

“Always. You complaining?”

One arm circled a slim waist while the other stretched out, reaching for the discarded manacles on the bed side table. Seeing what the older man was doing, Shuuhei’s lips quirked in a faint smile, and he shook his head

“Fuck no. Do your worst.”

Kensei laughed as he rolled them both, bringing Shuuhei beneath him and shrugging off the remainder of his uniform before taking his lover’s wrists in one hand and pinning his arms above his head.

“I fully intend to, brat.”

The last of the candles guttered out on Shuuhei’s husky moan, plunging the room into darkness.

 

 

 **  
Omake   
**

Returning from the bathroom with a damp cloth, Kensei sat on the edge of the bed and eased his lover onto his back, nudging his legs apart to clean his entrance before wiping away the sticky seed cooling on his stomach and chest, smiling faintly to himself when Shuuhei murmured sleepy appreciation and relaxed more fully into the mattress. Once he was satisfied that he had wiped up all traces of their lovemaking, he tossed the dirty washrag on the bedside table and lifted the smaller man so he could tug down the covers, maneuvering his nearly asleep lover beneath the crisp cotton sheets and tucking the lightweight covers around him before he rose to pull on his discarded hakama.

“Where you going?”

Kensei paused in the doorway at the sound of his lover’s voice, glancing back to see Shuuhei gazing at him drowsily from his little nest on the bed, looking utterly inviting while all sleepy and sated from the earlier activities. He wanted nothing more than to join him, but he had a little matter to take care of first.

“Pest control. Go back to sleep—I won’t be gone long,” he said, and his lover nodded, blinking sleepily up at him with a small smile.

“Oh, okay. Just don’t frighten them too much—we still need them for patrols,” he murmured, and Kensei laughed quietly, shaking his head. Of course the brat knew—Shuuhei didn’t miss much—and it certainly explained the increasing number of “punishments” his fukutaicho-lover had racked up lately.

“Go to sleep, brat. I’ll be back soon,” he said, waiting until Shuuhei nodded again and nestled deeper in his nest of covers before exiting the bedroom. This shouldn’t take long at all…

Not bothering to pull on his sandals, he left the small apartment and stepped out into the night, heading for the stairs that led down to the street, spotting his quarry standing across the street as he turned the corner. He was unsurprised to see they were all members of his division, including the two he had overheard talking on that fateful day a few weeks back. Grinning, he stepped into sonido, hiding his reiatsu as he appeared behind them so his presence went unnoticed. 

“Fuck—whoever Hisagi-fukutaicho is fucking is one lucky bastard.” one of the recruits was saying, and Kensei’s smile widened. Yes, yes he was. Smart kid.

“I’m glad you guys dragged us out all those weeks ago. Who would have thought a bar crawl would end up with discovering our fukutaicho was such a hot lay?”

Kensei’s smile slipped, eyes narrowing. Weeks, eh? They’d been watching for weeks?

“ _I_ wanna know what it feels like to plow that sweet ass every night. Who would have thought Old Stone Face could be such a little whore in bed?”

The Vizard’s smile vanished, rage rising up hot and fast at the comment. Not only was the idiot disparaging his lover, he was insulting a superior officer.

He cleared his throat gently.

“First gossiping and now peeping? It’s just one thing after another with you lot,” he said pleasantly, enjoying their startled, guilty expressions when they saw exactly who was standing behind them. He offered them his scariest smile. “You seem to have more time on your hands than I’m comfortable with. Maybe a few weeks helping the 4th change bedpans will help you get your priorities straight.”

“Tai—” One began, and Kensei recognized the speaker as one of the two recruits whom he’d caught gossiping about his lover the day Shuuhei had sparred with the 6th division’s fukutaicho.

“Show’s over. I suggest you get out of here and don’t come back—or I can come up with some truly unpleasant duties to fill your time.” His smile dropped, replaced by a hard-eyed stare he aimed at the entire group, and he watched several faces grow pale at the softly-worded threat.

“N-no, taicho! We’re sorry, taicho!” one of the recruits stammered, offering a hasty bow that was echoed by her companions, and the Vizard nodded as he folded his arms across his bare chest.

“Go, before I decide to write you all up for conduct unbecoming Gotei officers,” he commanded, and they bowed again before scurrying away. Kensei waited until they had disappeared down the street before heading back to the apartment and his waiting lover, certain that he had gotten his point across and the little peeping toms would leave them alone. They'd had their fun but they could find their entertainment elsewhere from now on. Idly he wondered how long Shuuhei had known they were watching, but he figured that could wait until morning. At the very least, it certainly gave him another reason to ‘punish’ his lover—which is probably what the other man had intended in the first place.

 Smiling wolfishly to himself, he slid the bedroom door closed behind him, pausing to shed his hakama before slipping into bed beside his lover. Shuuhei snuggled up against him automatically, even though he was already asleep, and the Vizard’s smile softened as he wrapped his arms around the younger man, drawing him closer. Yes, his brat was a treasure, and all his. Closing his eyes and breathing in the spicy-sweet scent of his lover’s skin, he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
